*Lena*
One Week Later
Olive Thermaldi was a strange woman.
She was tapping her pen against her desk as she looked me up and down, and then peered down at my transcript from Morhan, a look of suspicion etched into every line of her face. She was slight of build and rather tall, with soft gray hair that was pinned away from her and twisted into a low, neat bun at the nape of her neck. Her dark, rich skin was nearly perfect, and despite her age, she had an air of youth that I found hard not to notice as she ran her tongue along her lower lip and shrugged, handing the transcript back to me.
She'd been reading my transcript line by line for the past hour. Thankfully, it had my alias instead of my given name. There was no way I could be traced here by my family, I'd made sure of it during
